


Enough

by jalyn712



Category: Matt Houston (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4546257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalyn712/pseuds/jalyn712
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

Ah, the things that run 'round my head. This one's been begging to be written for decades. To this day, I detest how Matt screamed at/for CJ in the hospital scene, during "Get Houston." If memory serves, it's not the only time...so this story is general....

***

Seething, she walked ahead of him so that she wouldn't have to look at him. She knew he was angry with the world and all of its injustices, but she was also furious with him for they way he treated her when he got in these moods. She wasn't the proverbial whipping post.

For the first time ever, she hadn't tried to calm or soothe him in any way. They'd spent the entire ride to the office in silence. So, she knew that her inattentiveness had clued him into the fact that she was pissed at him – and it had only served to notch his own anger higher, but she couldn't have cared less.

Theirs was a highly-charged day for so many reasons...

Eventually, he was going to hear from her, but she was making a beeline to her office to calm down, first. She didn't think that speaking to him, now, would be good for either of them. Not the time, not the place. Of course, he wasn't going to let her get away without another word.

In a gruff tone, he said, "CJ." Curt. A demand to give her attention to him.

It enraged her, and she spun on him. "What? What is it that you want, now, oh-masterful-one? Do you wish for me to kneel at your feet, too?" She was so angry, she didn't care how loud her voice had risen or who could hear her. Nor did she care that her ire was only increasing his.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" he shouted.

"What the hell am I talking about?!" she mimicked loudly and with the right amount of censure. "Are you kidding me, right now, Houston?" But, she answered her own question before he could. "Of course, you're not. You're a son-of-a-bitch, when you're in this kind of mood, but let me tell you something..." and she took several steps closer to get within mere inches of him. Then, she poked him in the chest with her forefinger. Hard. It was sheer will that held him in place, not moving with the force behind her action. "If you EVER yell at me like that, again – especially in a public place – I will knock your ass all the way back to Texas. Do you hear me? I am NOT your subordinate, and if I was, I'd have your butt tied in a legal knot so intricate – for such unprofessionalism - that my name would wind up on the side of this building, alongside yours. So, watch yourself with me for awhile, Houston, because I'm done with this crap. I may be 'good 'ole reliable CJ,' but I will never be your patsy. Got it?!"

The fury emanating from her was more than palpable, and he did take a step back, then. Her verbal slaps were hitting their intended marks. While she continued to seethe at the embarrassment she felt, regardless of the fact that she wasn't the focus of his anger when he acted out, Matt was replaying the scene and began to feel embarrassment for a very different reason. His own fury had turned him into a jackass - with lots of witnesses. Hell...

He went to open his mouth to apologize, but she wouldn't hear it. She put her hand up to stop him and said, "Don't. Just don't say another word to me. I don't want to hear your voice, right now." With that, she spun on her heel, walked the distance to her office and slammed the door shut. She shoved it with such force that a picture fell off of a wall.

Damn, he was in trouble. There was almost nothing like CJ's fury, and when it was directed at him, it was ten-times worse. She didn't make it to this point very often, but when she did...suffice it to say, people should tiptoe, or heads would roll. Though, this time, he was certain that his was the only head in danger of rolling.

He sighed and went to his office. Best not to show his face around her for awhile.

CJ couldn't focus on anything but her anger. She wanted to throw something but wouldn't. Instead, she imagined how good it would feel to do it and left it at that. She had already inadvertently knocked a picture off the wall – best not to do more physical damage.

She sat in her desk chair and turned it to face a blank wall, trying to blank her mind to match. She focused on her breathing, taking in great amounts of air...a little more, and a little more...and then letting them out slowly. It was working. She was feeling calmer, and that was a really good thing.

Settling into a normal breathing pattern, she continued to stare at the soothing slate-blue wall and let her mind pause. When one of her previous enraged thoughts tried to worm its way in, she kicked it out. She even pictured herself literally kicking it – like a cartoon character kicking a giant worm – and she smiled. Figuring if she was smiling, she could probably turn herself back to the issue at hand and change perspective...as best she could, that is. She wasn't a magician, and she had no intention of going back to the same-old and allowing Matt to get by with crap like that.

She breathed, again. She didn't want to get stuck on the same thoughts that made her furious with him. If she knew him – and she did – he was sufficiently contrite and holing-up to where he would be out of her sight for a good amount of time. 'Wise man,' she thought, then smiled again. Followed by a sigh.  
Their tensions weren't just about what was happening, right now. No. These were long-held and, unfortunately, piling up thanks to recent cases and their workload.

She reached in a desk drawer and pulled out the extra-strength Tylenol. Downing two pills with a bottle of water, she sat back and breathed deeply a few more times.

What a life.

She didn't want to add to Houston's stresses, but enough was enough. He'd started treating her differently...irreverently...as their time in LA lengthened. But, she wasn't standing for it, anymore. She wasn't certain what the future held for her, but she'd be damned if she'd let this go on. She didn't love anyone enough to allow them to treat her as Matt had. She was a person – a highly intelligent person who'd helped him to build his empire - and she would be commanding his respect from here on. He would get no more freebies to take his frustrations out on her. He'd snapped the last olive branch she'd had reserved for him.  
After several hours, CJ still hadn't emerged from her office. Concerned because she usually cooled down much quicker than this, after one of their arguments, he made his way to her door and knocked.

She told him to come in; she'd been expecting him, as the fact that she'd stayed holed-up would concern him. And, well it should.

"Hi, CJ," he said, as he entered. "I'm really sorry about earlier." He had the decency to look contrite.

"I'm sure you are, but I'm not going to put up with it anymore, Houston." She went straight for the jugular.

Now, he looked shocked.

"You've gotten into a very bad habit with me. Unfortunately for you, I've not been able to cool down much since it happened. I keep thinking that it's no wonder the press has a field-day with our relationship. I mean, hell, when you're treating me like a nimwit instead of a respected business partner in public...why wouldn't people think I'm not worth my grain in salt?"

Before he could put in his two cents, she stood up and placed her hands on her desk, leaning forward; it was a stance which easily got across how much she meant business.

"Hear me, Houston, because it's important that you do. I am your partner, and I've got the stock options to prove it. Harvard educated; F. Lee Bailey's best protege; and, I've knocked it out of the ballpark in corporate finance. Now, I'm not quoting my resume to prove my case; I'm reminding you of whom you work with on a daily basis."

She stood upright, then, and walked around to the front of her desk. Closing the gap between them by several more feet.

"We may have grown up together, but you don't have license to treat me as you did, today. So, know this: I can go anywhere – and I mean anywhere – and land any deal I want. But, lucky for you, I have wanted to remain here. I helped build this empire, and I've aided your investigations. However...I will cash in my options and find something else worthwhile, if this is where our relationship really is headed. I'm not sticking around for it." She folded her arms to emphasize how much she meant business. Then, she sat on the edge of the desk. Waiting. Watching to see if he was getting her point.

As if he couldn't tell by her face alone, forget the diatribe she'd laid on him.

He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. Not at her. At himself. Then, he opened them to see that she hadn't moved a muscle, not even her eyes had softened. Okay. It was go-time.

"You're right. I've been losing sight of who you are – not just to me, but who you are as a person. You're intelligent, accomplished, and I couldn't do any of this without you. I apologize for being a terror, when I'm furious. I apologize more for abusing our relationship – as if I'm allowed because we've been friends for so long."

She probably didn't realize it, but a brow twitched – like it wanted to raise in disbelief.

"Truce?" he asked, hopefully.

She sighed but didn't waver much. "For now. You're on probation, though."

"Agreed."

She uncrossed her arms, stopped leaning on her desk and walked back to her chair. After sitting, she looked back up at him. "Was there something else?"

He didn't think she could *be* more dismissive, but he wouldn't bristle. He reminded himself that he deserved this, and he would respect her right to serve.

"Yes, actually. I was wondering if you're free for dinner, tonight." His olive branch.

"No, not tonight." She didn't elaborate, but he gathered she needed more time apart from him.

Still, he asked, "Plans?"

"No," she said easily. "But, I don't have plans tomorrow night, either." Her olive branch.

"Tomorrow night, then. Dinner – and then we'll see where the night takes us?" His way of saying that he'd didn't expect to heal a wound with a single meal.

"Sounds good." Her acceptance and confirmation that healing could happen.

Which is how their friendship finally got back on track.


End file.
